


Muse

by Shusan



Category: In Your Arms Tonight
Genre: F/M, art class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:37:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shusan/pseuds/Shusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiyoto talks the MC into some private art lessons . . . But art isn't the only thing he wants to teach her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muse

It was a hot summer day, and instead of being in air conditioning, she was trapped in the art room. The windows were open to let nature in, according to the art professor, because air conditioning was too restrictive on the creative process.

For the hundredth time, she wondered why she'd let some silly, younger bartender talk her into taking art lessons. Probably, she admitted to herself, because saying no to Yukako and Akiko was easier said than done.

They thought a new hobby might make her forget her divorce. All it did, however, was make her feel even more useless.

She sighed as she dropped her paintbrush onto her easel to stare at the misbegotten image on her canvas. It was glaringly evident, even to a beginner, that the model's form was completely off—just another thing she'd failed at.

Luckily, class was basically over, and the male model was given permission to dress so she didn’t have to worry about trying again today. As the oldest woman in the class, she reminded herself yet again not to blush as college boy dutifully redressed.

Instead, she glanced over at the class prodigy.

Kiyoto Makimura was a gifted artist, even she could see that. The way he held the paintbrush, the way he studied his canvas, even his very movements themselves—it all seemed so _magical_.

He didn’t have to sketch anything out, not like she did. Instead, he just looked at something, and _painted_. She was so envious of his raw talent. Kiyoto was going places, and she'd couldn't believe someone like _him_ had taken an interest like her at the bar.

No, she reminded herself with a shake of the head. Not an interest; he was merely bored and teasing her. Younger men these days were cheeky, and Kiyoto was cheekier than most. 

She sighed and began packing up her supplies. At least art class was over now for today.

“Hey, miss,” a voice said behind her.

She turned in surprised. "Makimura," she greeted him, though she wished he hadn't cornered her in the mood she was currently in.

“There’s no need to be so formal, miss,” he replied with his usual smirk, as he leaned against her sturdy easel. 

“You’re calling me ‘miss,’ though, Makimura,” she pointed out, grabbing her bag and gently slinging it over her shoulder.

“If you call me by my last name again, miss, I won’t be able to stop myself from making our relationship more . . . intimate.” His smirk grew.

She debated the wisdom of calling him by his first name for a moment. She had no desire to egg him on, but at the same time, he was hardly respecting their differences in age, either. But when she saw the devilish grin, she decided to cave for today, if only so she could go home that much quicker.

"Kiyoto, then," she agreed, swallowing as she fought off a blush. She was not going to show him that he got to her so easily—it'd only make him want to tease her that much more.

“Good girl.” He looked over at her painting as the rest of their classmates began leaving the room, and after a moment, he tsked. “Miss, is that really what a naked man looks like to you?”

This time, she _did_ blush, and hastily covered up her terrible painting with her own body. “Don’t look! I know I got it wrong, okay? I tried, but I just can’t seem to get the male anatomy down right.”

She realized, once the words were out of her mouth, just how inexperienced she sounded right then. But what was said was said, and she couldn't take it back.

Kiyoto, for once, didn't jump right on her comments. Instead, he turned to her with a surprisingly serious expression. "Would you like some help?"

“No!" she said quickly. There was absolutely no way she was staying alone in the classroom with him. He was dangerous enough at the bar, and he behaved only as much as the environment allowed. "It's fine! I'm not sure I'll come back, anyway."

Kiyoto ignored her, and gently pried her body away from her painting.

“Just let me help you, miss,” he told her with another smirk, moving her out of the way. “You can reward me later.”

He pulled his easel over and flipped to a clean page, and before she could reply, grabbed her hand and dragged her in front of him. She could feel his heat against her back as he pulled her up firmly against him, and then, he reached his hands around her to grab a pencil from the easel tray.

“ _Watch_ ,” he said quietly, his breath hot on her neck. "And learn."

He gently took her hands in his own, and began to show her how he sketched out a man’s body. Unlike with his own work, this time, he carefully sketched out each part of the body, as if he had the entire male form memorized.

She couldn’t believe how accurate he was at just sketching when the model wasn’t there anymore.

“Kiyoto, do you—” she began, but he didn't let her finish.

“Just watch, miss,” he interrupted her as they sketched out a man’s body on the paper, his hand around hers. He took the opportunity to move in closer, until his entire body was pressed against her own.

She, on other hand, tried to move, but he didn't even stop drawing as he closed the distance once more, until she didn't have the space left to try and retreat.

He's too close! She panicked, wondering if Yukako was right, wondering if young men these days were really carnivores after all, wondering if he'd dare to try anything with her right then, in broad daylight—

“You aren't paying attention," Kiyoto scolded her, turning his head to nip her earlobe.

She blushed again, and tried to shake herself free. “I-I am!” she lied.

He backed off just enough that she could begin to breathe a little easier.

“Then show me what I just showed you,” he replied, flipping to a clean sheet. “If you don’t do it exactly right, I’ll punish you.”

She didn't have to turn around to know that he was smirking, but all of the sudden, his hand dropped from hers and he was no longer touching her at all. She was left with just the paper and an extra pencil sitting in front of her.

“B-but there’s no model,” she stammered, reaching for the first excuse she could think of.

“Then I’ll model for you, miss,” he told her as he suddenly moved to stand in the space the model had left just minutes before.

"N-no! That's okay!" she protested, flushing.

As he met her eye, he daringly began unbuttoning his shirt with that same flirtatious smirk of his. "It's just art," he whispered beguilingly, reaching down to unfasten his pants. She couldn't bring herself to look away as he tugged off his pants, standing in front of her wearing nothing but his underwear and that smile.

She suddenly couldn't meet his eyes.

"Well, miss?" He thumbed the waistband of his boxers. "Shall I take this off for you as well?"

She shook her head, almost desperately now trying to think of an excuse, any excuse, to run.

"Then draw," he purred. "Or do you think this is your latest failure?"

_No._

Her hand began moving across the paper before she thought better of it. Slowly, she mimicked the techniques she'd seen him utilize just minutes before, tracing out the lines of his lithe body over and over again until his body began to take form on the paper.

All the while, Kiyoto didn't seem to even blink. He held himself perfectly still, as if his slightest movement would ruin everything. A small part of her knew he had to be getting tired, but she didn't stop, not until she saw his lips smirking up at her from the paper.

"Good job, miss," Kiyoto said, and she blinked to see him standing next to her. "I knew you could do it."

She stared, first at the paper, and then at him. "I-I did?" She glanced back down at the paper in surprise; sure enough, Kiyoto's body was on the paper, and it didn't look even half as awkward as her sketch of the model earlier. It wasn't perfect, but it was definitely her best attempt so far.

"You did," he confirmed, gently pulling the pencil from her hands. "I think I want that reward now, for helping you."

She hesitated, not trusting that seductive look on his face. "What kind of reward?"

He leaned in, cornering her on the stool. As she sat fully down back on the chair, he leaned in, and gently pressed his lips to hers. "This kind," he whispered, leaning in closer. He pressed and massaged his lips to her own, until she found herself naturally deepening the kiss with him.

Kiyoto immediately moved even closer, running his hands up and down her arms, and then down her back until they settled on her waist.

When he pulled back, she took a deep breath of air, and tried to calm her frantic heart. Kiyoto, however, wiped at his lower lip with his thumb.

"You taste delicious." He grinned at her as he stepped into his pants, and tugged them back up. "If you ever need help again," he added, shrugging on his shirt, "let me know."

He grabbed his bag and headed out of the classroom, leaving her there panting on the stool in her own shock.

It would only be later that she'd realized that he'd somehow slipped his card with his personal number into her pocket.


End file.
